


Playing With Loaded Words

by Birdpeople (DeusExMachina)



Category: Batman and Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: And a really nice introspective-type narrative, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 13:47:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2272032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeusExMachina/pseuds/Birdpeople
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"And then suddenly, everything was better than fine. Because the man, the Bat, he taught the kid how to fly again. Gave him a padded suit, but the padding was his training wheels and he would lose that with experience.”</p><p>Tim closed his eyes as Dick’s voice washed over him. He thought of Nightwing’s suit: durable, flexible, built for speed rather than safety. Black paint with a knife slash of brilliant, dangerous blue, and a wild, bright smile to go with the wind in his hair.</p><p>Tim shifted unconsciously and Dick hummed, acknowledging his thoughts, making Tim flush that he was so transparent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing With Loaded Words

When Tim dropped onto the couch, hair still wet and shower water clinging in droplets to his skin, Dick was over there in an instant. Tim tipped his head back with a sigh as Dick seated himself on the floor in front of the couch. Dick hooked his elbows over Tim’s knees and rested his chin on his clasped hands.

 

“Tough day at the office, honey?”

 

“The worst,” Tim said, voice rough.

 

Dick hummed. “I’ll tell you a story.”

 

“Must you? My mental processing power is sorta shot for the night.”

 

“You’ll appreciate it.”

 

Tim sighed and waved a hand. “Carry on, then. If you must.”

 

Dick kissed Tim’s bare knee. “Once upon a time, there was a kid.”

 

“I think I’ve heard this one.”

 

“Shut up, it gets better with age.” Dick kissed Tim’s knee again and Tim huffed out a laugh.

 

Dick spoke slowly, voice serious. “Anyway, that kid was in pain. Just hurting so badly. In his heart. His world had been yanked out from under him and, of course, he never used a net. And his head spun and he didn’t know which way was up. But then a man stepped in. And he kept the kid’s feet on the ground and his heart in its place. And everything was fine.”

 

And then suddenly, everything was better than fine. Because the man, the Bat, he taught the kid how to fly again. Gave him a padded suit, but the padding was his training wheels and he would lose that with experience.”

 

Tim closed his eyes as Dick’s voice washed over him. He thought of Nightwing’s suit: durable, flexible, built for speed rather than safety. Black paint with a knife slash of brilliant, dangerous blue, and a wild, bright smile to go with the wind in his hair.

 

Tim shifted unconsciously and Dick hummed, acknowledging his thoughts, making Tim flush that he was so transparent.

 

Dick went on, “At first it was good, and easy, and recalled his earlier performances.” Dick trailed his fingers up the inside of Tim’s thigh, stopping just short of the edge of his boxers and pulling back, still talking.

 

“But it wasn’t quite like those performances. If performing was a straight trajectory of up, up, up, then being Robin was exponential, initially indistinguishable except in the details, but eventually peeling away from those other experiences, gaining distance, constantly evolving. The spotlight is hot, so hot, and everything outside of it is a dark blur. _You’re_ the important thing. The _only_ important thing. When the kid was out with the Bat, well, there was no spotlight. It was cool and dark and showmanship was discouraged. But it was still flight, and in the beginning it felt like the breath of life.”

 

Tim was listening hard, despite his exhaustion. He knew the things Dick was saying on one level, as the story of The First Robin, but on another level as _his_ story, the story of every Robin. His throat worked for all the world as if the words filling the air were his own. They _were_ his own. He claimed them, had a claim to them in the same way that Dick did. They resonated in his chest, making it difficult to draw breath.

 

“After a while of it being good and fine and easy, the kid started to pick stuff up from the Bat. Stuff he didn’t even realize he was mimicking, stuff the Bat barely even talked about. He saw the stark divide between the man and the Bat and began to see himself with a foot each in two worlds, the world of Robin and the Bat, and the real world, so much dull, meaningless glitter in the flat city daylight. A haze of tiredness and mundane details.”

 

Later in life, the kid would see that this was not so, would be able to somewhat reconcile these things, The City At Night and The City In The Day, would learn the careful balancing act required to let the right parts of him bleed through the lines. But until then, he was trapped between worlds, always tired and alert in counterpoint to others.”

 

Tim nodded ruefully as Dick stroked his thighs, leaning his cheek against Tim’s leg and resting his hands a little higher than before as he continued.

 

“And it was strange for him, and a period of chaotic thoughts. He would get home and skin out of his costume as fast as possible, the city still ground into his pores, and he would not think about it that night, would force his thoughts and experiences back lest he pick through them to distraction until the sun came up. And he would not dare to think those things in the day, either, sitting safely in a desk at school, antsy and dissatisfied, but unwilling to indulge in thoughts of cool air and weightlessness, because it felt dangerous and sacrilegious to think those things in his other life, to allow those thoughts to filter across the darkly-drawn lines. And he would go home and work and sleep and rinse and repeat. Never a moment of peace.”

 

And god, Tim knew the feeling. He wet his lips, leaned down to give Dick a chaste kiss, but the older boy gently drew him in deeper, lips soft and pliant, hands at Tim’s waist.

 

When they drew back, Dick looked a hell of a lot calmer than Tim felt, totally in control. Tim’s heart pounded, not as it had earlier when adrenaline sang through his veins, but throbbing, desiring. His breath shuddered. Dick rubbed his legs sympathetically.

 

“Story’s nearly over, babe.”

 

Tim nodded, not trusting his clumsy tongue to summon the words.

 

Dick considered him for a moment before seeming to reach a decision. He stood, unfolding himself from the floor to settle himself across Tim’s knees, straddling him, forcing Tim to lean back to make room for him. Dick hummed as he stroked Tim’s hair, face, and Tim’s hands, lying uselessly, came to settle at Dick’s waist.

 

“It got better,” Dick said slowly, “Nearly easy again, but never quite as it was that first time. Like any addictive thing.”

 

Tim shivered.

 

Because he was right.

 

 _Addictive._ Seductive.

 

“And the kid grew up. He moved on. But he was always looking back. From the surface of a star you can’t see your own light, but there was another. A volatile young thing, always looking like he would burn out before flaring up and catching everyone by surprise. He was Robin the second. Then one day, his light went out, taking with it all the light in the universe. Until there was Robin number three. And he was beautiful and bright and distant. Stable.”

 

Tim shifted as best he could. He didn’t feel cold or bright or any of it at the moment. What he felt was hot and just the right amount of trapped and more than a little constricted. He squirmed until Dick kissed him, hands framing his face, settling him for the moment.

 

“And god, was he beautiful,” Dick said, and there was heat in voice that hadn’t been there before. Hands still framing Tim’s face, he tilted their foreheads together. “He was beautiful and willing and serious and his humor would always catch you off guard.”

 

“Kind words,” Tim said, in what was just not a gasp.

 

“Mm. And he understood. He understood what it’s like to walk a tightrope, understands how hard it is to juggle selves. He understood and he still stuck around; more than that, he thrived.”

 

With a groan, Tim bucked his hips, catching Dick off guard. Dick hung his head, arms planted on the back of the couch, panting. “Getting impatient?”

 

“What do you think?”

 

“You liked my story?”

 

“It was ugly.” Tim wasn’t sure what had made him say it.

 

“The truth always is.”

 

“You have a way with words.”

 

Dick preened. “You’re a good listener. I can tell you secrets.”

 

“I don’t do it for free,” Tim said, as Dick slid his thumbs under the waistband of Tim’s boxers.

 

“You would if I asked you to,” Dick hummed.

 

Tim laughed. “But you like this part too much to do that.”

 

“True, true.” Dick had a hand around Tim’s cock, collecting precum with his thumb, stroking him tightly with a flick of his wrist on every upstroke. Tim was groaning and Dick kissed him, hot and wet and filthy. Tim came, moaning into Dick’s mouth. Dick slowed down but continued to stroke him until Tim gave a gaspy breath.

 

“Enough.” Tim slid his hands around to Dick’s ass, urging him to kneel up on the couch, hands planted on either side of Tim’s head for balance as Tim freed Dick of the confines of his pants. He was already hard as Tim took him into his mouth, swirling the very tip of his tongue around the head, across the slit, and Dick’s arms were shaking. Tim wrapped a hand around what he couldn’t reach, taking in as much as he could before pulling back slowly, cheeks hollowed, tongue working.

 

It took a very few repetitions for Dick to come. He slumped against Tim, who tucked both of them away. Dick kissed Tim’s throat in a lazy, stated way.

 

“You still smell like the city,” Dick hummed, the vibrations tickling Tim’s throat so that he twisted his head away, smiling.

 

“It never washes out.”

 

“No,” Dick sighed. “It never does.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm really proud of this. I had a bunch of ideas of Dick to say and was like.... how do I string them together.... So story time....
> 
> Anyway, I hope you liked it!! If you want to say hi to me on tumblr, it's quasi-birdpeople.tumblr.com


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